Hokage BuildingHokage's Office
Kakashi had barely stepped away from the kids when a summons from the Third Hokage pulled him straight to the office.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind the desk with the calm of a man who had seen every kind of storm. A thin ribbon of smoke curled from the pipe clenched between his teeth as he slid a thick folder forward.
"This is our final draft," the old man said. "Read it. Tell me if anything needs changing."
It was the reparations package for Kumogakure—the price of their failed war.
Kakashi flipped past the formalities and went straight to the meat of the document. His eye narrowed as he scanned the clauses.
Territorial concessions. Monetary reparations. Permanent stationing of Konoha troops inside the Land of Lightning.
Acceptable, if brutal.
Then came the last two demands, the ones that turned brutal into murderous.
To "eliminate all future threats of war," Kumogakure's total ninja forces would be capped at nine thousand. No independent military units allowed. Every ninja currently registered in the village—name, bloodline, jutsu, weaknesses—would be handed over to Konoha's Intelligence Division.
And finally: the complete archives of Kumogakure's Lightning Release Chakra Mode techniques, including the Raikage's personal Hell Stab variations.
Kakashi did the math in his head. Before the war, Kumo had fielded roughly fifteen thousand shinobi. This campaign had cost them four thousand dead and another thousand captured. That left approximately nine thousand—exactly the number Konoha was now demanding they never exceed.
The cap wasn't a ceiling. It was a guillotine.
Handing over the personal dossiers of nine thousand ninja—medics, ANBU, even desk-bound administrators—would strip the village naked. Konoha would know every face, every bloodline limit, every fatal flaw. Secrets would cease to exist.
Compared to that, surrendering the Lightning Release Chakra Mode felt almost trivial.
"It's close," Kakashi said, setting the folder down. "During the actual negotiations, we can treat the intelligence clause as the fallback. Let them think they've won something when we drop it."
Hiruzen exhaled a slow plume of smoke. "Of course. No one signs a death warrant without believing they talked us down first."
The old Hokage understood the game perfectly: ask for the sun and the moon, then act magnanimous when you settle for the moon. The real target wasn't the dossiers—it was the one thousand Kumo prisoners still rotting in Konoha's cells. The moment the Fourth Raikage refused terms that humiliated every ninja in his village, those prisoners would die by his own hand to keep the negotiations alive. A blood price paid in public, all to save face.
As long as the outrage stayed at the top and never trickled down to the rank-and-file, the Raikage's position would become untenable. Rumors would do the rest.
Kakashi allowed himself half a smirk. "And the Raikage's envoy?"
"They'll reach the gates in three days," Hiruzen replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling with something that might have been amusement. "Second time this year. Last time we rolled out the red carpet. This time… not so much."
Kakashi gave a short nod and turned to leave.
"Kakashi."
He paused at the door.
"Jiraiaya told me something interesting," the Third said quietly. "That you want to be the Fifth Hokage."
The words hung in the air like kunai.
Kakashi turned back. The afternoon light slanted through the half-open window, stirring the old man's gray beard in the breeze. Hiruzen's eyes, clouded by age yet suddenly sharp, fixed on him without blinking.
"Yes," Kakashi answered.
"Why?"
The wind slipped into the room, cold and scentless. Hiruzen waited, pipe forgotten in his hand.
Kakashi met that stare for a long moment.
"Does a Konoha shinobi need a reason to want to be Hokage?"
"That's not the answer I asked for."
Silence stretched between them.
Eventually Kakashi looked out the window, toward the monument carved into the cliff face, then back to the old man who had carried the village for decades.
"The shinobi world is changing," he said, voice low. "The Five Great Nations still stand, but the wars never stop. The Uzumaki are gone—our closest allies, wiped out. Konoha's roots are thinning."
"On the surface we look untouchable. In reality we're one disaster away from collapse. The Fourth gave his life sealing the Nine-Tails. Orochimaru defected. Lord Jiraiaya wanders the world instead of standing here. Lady Tsunade…" Kakashi's eye flicked to Hiruzen's face and caught the faint flinch. "…is nowhere to be found."
"The elders cling to power they no longer have the strength or vision to wield. Inside the village, the Uchiha grow restless. Outside, someone orchestrated the Nine-Tails attack and still walks free. Four hidden villages circle us like wolves, and shadows we can't name keep tightening the noose."
He stepped closer, boots silent on the wooden floor.
"This is an era where the strong devour the weak, where nations rise and fall on the edge of a single decision. Tell me, Hokage-sama—how many more years do you think your body can carry Konoha before it gives out?"
The words struck like a hammer against steel.
Hiruzen's knuckles whitened around the stem of his pipe. For a long moment the only sound was the wind rattling the windowpane and the distant cry of a hawk high above the village.
At last the Third Hokage closed his eyes, the lines around them deepening.
When he opened them again, something ancient and weary looked out at the young man standing in the autumn light.
And for the first time in a very long while, Hiruzen Sarutobi had no answer.
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